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Simone briefly shut her eyes. “What?”
“I had lunch with Chad today—at Cisco’s.”
“Really.” A tense bubble of laughter burst and dribbled over her lips. It was apparent that Chad hadn’t mentioned their brief conversation, so neither would she. “You make it sound like more than business.”
“Well…” She let the word stretch to four syllables.
Simone gripped the phone a bit tighter. “What does that mean?”
Samantha went on to explain about their upcoming “date” to the jazz club and Chad’s subsequent request for her to help him find an apartment.
“Sounds like you two are going to be spending a lot of time together.”
Samantha sighed. “I hope so, Monie,” she said, using her pet name for her sister. “I like him and I think we could have something.”
“You figured that all out after one lunch?”
Samantha frowned, startled by Simone’s sharp tone. “What’s bugging you?”
Simone caught herself. “Hey, I’m sorry. I guess I’m just tired and I have a headache brewing. A bit on edge.” At least that part was true.
“Did you take anything?”
“No, not yet. But I will.” Simone’s tight expression softened. Although they were only separated by one year, with Sam being the younger, early on Samantha had taken the opposite role as big sister and nurturer. Samantha was the type of person who couldn’t stand to see anyone suffering or in pain. She somehow believed it her duty and obligation to take on the weight of everyone’s ills and find a way to make them better. You had to love her.
“You go and rest. If it gets worse and you need me, just call. Okay?”
“Thanks, but I’ll be fine. I think I will lie down for a while.”
“Good. I’ll check on you tomorrow. Later.”
“Hey, uh, when are you guys going to the club?”
“Wednesday. Why don’t you bring Chris and come along?”
“Chris Walker has risen to the top of my not-to-do list at the moment.” She’d been dating Chris for about three months, and although he was smart enough to have “Doctor” in front of his name, it had become abundantly clear, at least to her, that his intelligence was trapped between his legs. Whenever they were together all he ever wanted to do with any enthusiasm was to have sex. Any other activity he was always “too tired” to participate. That wore thin pretty quickly. Their relationship was going nowhere fast.
Samantha chuckled. “Girl, you and men. You shed them faster than I can keep up with. One of these days you’re going to have to figure out what you want and stick with it.”
“Sam, you don’t know the half of it. But that’s another story for another day. Anyway, I’ll talk to you later.”
“Bye.”
Simone absently hung up the hone. Humph. Figure out what I want and stick with it. I thought I had, once upon a time. Guess I was wrong.
“How’s it feel to be back in your own office?” Justin asked, leaning against the frame of the door.
Chad looked up from sorting the files on his desk, happy to see his mentor. He leaned back in his chocolate-brown leather chair and expansively linked his fingers behind his head. “Man, I am home,” he stated, enunciating every word.
Justin chuckled and stepped inside. Casually, he gazed around, intermittently picking up and putting down objets d’art that Chad brought back with him from his travels. Statues from Ghana, talismans from Uganda, native cloths from Liberia and fetishes from the Sudan, among others.
Chad monitored Justin’s apparent ease and lack of agenda, and knew from years of working with him that he had something on his mind. It was a tactic that worked like a charm with juries, and Chad, too, had mastered the technique—biding his time before making his move. The only unknown factor was when Justin would strike. Chad didn’t have to wait long.
Justin crossed his arms and pursed his lips as though preparing for his closing argument.
“I have a few concerns I want to discuss with you.”
“I figured as much.”
The two men looked at each other with quiet amusement.
“You know I think of you as a son, Rush,” Justin began, using the name he’d tagged him with since Chad’s early days at the firm. “You’re one of the sharpest attorneys I’ve come across in years. I can easily see you winding up in a political office, maybe in the House or on the federal bench.”
“Thank you, Justin. You know your opinion means a great deal to me.”
“However…”
“I knew there was a ‘however’ in there somewhere.”
Justin took a seat opposite Chad, crossed his right ankle over his left knee and eased back. “And I’m sure you know that even though I will support you in this endeavor, I have some serious concerns on how this will impact on my family. Simone has always been the more levelheaded, thoughtful one of my children. But she can be willful and stubborn once she sets her mind to something. This run for the Assembly seat is a major step in her political career. And with the Republicans running the show and backing the police, what you propose could severely damage whatever chance she may have. These are very powerful people you’ll be battling, and the word defeat is not in their vocabulary. They’ll do whatever is necessary to protect the status quo. Don’t expect them to just roll over.”
“So what are you saying?”
Justin held up his hand. “Hold on. Sam, on the other hand, will run out into the fray with guns blazing. She’s hot-tempered and doesn’t care who knows it. Many times she thinks with that big heart of hers and not her head. Did she mention to you the death threats she’s been receiving?”
Chad’s eyes widened in alarm. “N-no. She hasn’t.”
Justin nodded. “I didn’t think she would. She believes she can handle everything. This is not the kind of think you ignore.”
Chad leaned forward. “How did you find out?”
“Purely by accident. I was in her office one day when the mail arrived. I saw her face when she opened one of the letters. I made her show it to me. That’s when she admitted it wasn’t the first one.”
“Has anything been done?”
“All the usual precautions. But it’s pretty hard to get police protection when they’re the very ones you’re going after. They won’t do anything until after the fact.”
“Damn!”
“I hired a private bodyguard. But Sam cussed him out his first day on the job, and pretty much made his life hell. He lasted about a week.”
Chad tried not to smile, but he could just imagine Sam working the poor guy over. But he quickly became somber when he reflected on the dark implications of all that Justin discussed. Death threats were serious business.
“What do you want me to do, Justin? Forget this whole thing?”
“No. Not at all. What I do want is to keep my daughters as far out of the picture as possible. I want them out of harm’s way. I know that’s not going to be easy, given their ethics and personalities.” He took a deep breath. “But I don’t want them hurt by this in any way. I don’t want to see anything happen to them.”
“I understand, Justin. But the reality is, Sam and Simone are grown women. If I told them tomorrow that I’d changed my mind, that the whole idea was crazy, they’d take it upon themselves to keep moving forward. You know how they are.”
“Exactly. That’s why I want you to work closely with me. Involve them as little as possible. Stall them with the big stuff. Keep them in the background.”
Chad’s brows rose with doubt. “That’s not going to be easy.”
“None of this is,” Justin said. “And it’s only the beginning.”
Chapter 8
“Mia, has there been any word on the condition of those other two young men who were with Fields?” Samantha quizzed as she reviewed the statements from Roderick’s family. She was certain the police would try to somehow discredit Fields even if it was with something as inane as cheating on a spelling bee in grade school. She wanted to be prepared for every inevitability, including a leak of some minor juvenile offense to the press.
“No. Nothing new,” Mia said, “but take a look at this.”
Samantha peered over the top of her thin-framed designer glasses and caught the tight expression on Mia’s face. “What is it?” She felt sure she knew the answer before she read the headlines: more tragedy. She picked up the paper. Unarmed Man Shot By Police. The Washington Post article referred to another New York incident involving some undercover officers who harassed a black man during a buy-and-bust sting. When the victim didn’t offer information about the location of a nearby drug den, but rebuffed them, a violent confrontation ensued and the victim, twenty-sixyear-old Patrick Dorismond, a Haitian immigrant, was shot dead despite being unarmed.
“Another ‘accident,’ I suppose?” Samantha said with disgust, quickly digesting the details of the latest killing. She blew out an exasperated breath and pulled her glasses from her nose. “When is this going to stop?”
Mia shook her head sadly, her berry-toned face bearing an expression of grief and denial. She’d been Samantha’s assistant since she’d graduated with honors in political science from Georgetown University, and had the opportunity to meet Samantha at a voter registration rally two years earlier. She’d been so inspired by the fire and vision of Samantha Montgomery that she convinced Sam to let her work for free for the first three months—anything so that she could learn. Reluctantly, Samantha had taken her on, and never regretted a day. Mia Opoku was not only the best research assistant anyone could find, but had become a dear friend.
“Maybe when the tide turns, things will change,” Mia said without much conviction. “Or when it hits them in the pocket.”
Samantha nodded in agreement. Financial remuneration was just the route that Chad intended to take. Reparations paid for police abuses were on the rise around the country. But the scattered legal victories had done little to stem the onslaught of police shootings. She tossed the paper aside and massaged the bridge of her nose.
Muffled conversation from her staff of six and the sounds of ringing phones played havoc in the background.
Some days, like today, she wished she could walk away from it all. Walk away from the ugliness, the notoriety, the rallies, the tension, and simply have a life of her own. A quiet, simple life where her biggest worry was paying the cable bill on time so she wouldn’t miss her favorite movie. A subdued existence out of the limelight.
That, of course, was fantasy. She could no more give up her commitment, her quest, than she could give up breathing. It was an integral part of her life.
Samantha gazed up at Mia, who was looking at her pensively.
“You generally don’t have ‘that look’ until Friday,” Mia teased, attempting to push away the cloud that had suddenly appeared above her friend’s head.
Samantha tried to laugh it off. “I’m not that transparent, am I?”
Mia nodded, lips pursed. “What else is on your mind besides the usual chaos and mayhem?”
Samantha pushed her locks away from her face and tucked them behind her ear. “Chad is back.”
“And…”
“It was good seeing him.” She paused. “More than good.”
Mia folded her arms. “And…”
“And—well, I just…wonder what it would be like to have a real life. Settle down, home, white picket fence, family, kids, you know.”
Mia needed to take a seat. This wasn’t the Sam she knew talking.
“I like him. Always did,” she shyly admitted. “And it looks like we’re going to have the chance to work together.” She went on to explain Chad’s bold idea and all that it would entail. She looked deeply into Mia’s eyes. “I know he thinks I’m witty, intelligent, with high morals, a fighter for justice and the downtrodden. But I want him to see me as Samantha Montgomery—woman. You know what I mean. But it’s been so long since I’ve even thought of myself outside of my work, I wouldn’t know where to begin, where to separate myself. When I called him for lunch, I knew I had it all together. But lying in bed last night, the doubts slipped in. Chad seems perfect for someone like my sister Simone, not me.”
“Why do you say that?”
Samantha shrugged helplessly. “She’s talented, smart, pretty, and she has a way with men that I’ve never mastered. It was the one thing I envied about her,” she admitted. “Men flock to Simone without much effort on her part.”
“So you’ve become your work?”
“I guess,” she sighed. “I live too much in my head. In my job.”
“Believe me, I love Simone, but the only difference between you and your stepsister is that she isn’t afraid of her womanhood. She embraces it.”
“And you’re saying that I’m afraid?” she tossed back defensively.
“Thou protests too much,” Mia said with an arched brow.
Samantha backed down by degrees, knowing that Mia was right. “Okay, okay,” she finally conceded. “So now what? What do I do?”
“Depends on how much you really want him.”
Samantha’s gaze drifted away for a moment. How much did she want Chad? Or was he like everything else in her life—a challenge?
“Well,” Mia pushed out a breath and stood. “I have work to do and by the sound of what you told me, so do you.”
Samantha blinked and focused on Mia. “You’re right. I need to get busy. I’ll start pulling files that we’ve had direct contact with and later today, you have one of the interns make copies. No.” She shook her head. “You make the copies. Although I trust Nettie and Steve, they’re still young and excitable. I don’t want them running back to G.W.U. and Howard spreading the word about what we’re putting together.”
“Got it. The sooner you get them to me, the sooner I’ll have them screened and back to you.”
“Before lunch.”
Mia gave a thumbs-up and headed for the door, then stopped. “You know if you ever want to talk—about whatever—I’ll listen. Might not have much to offer in the way of advice,” she teased, “but I’ll listen to anything. No judgments.”
Samantha laughed. “That’s definitely good to know.” Her expression grew more serious. “Thanks.”
Mia waved and left.
Samantha turned her attention to the stack of reports and statements on her desk. She didn’t really see any of it. Afraid of being a woman. The telling phrase echoed in her head. Emotionally shut down. Was she? And if so, what was she willing to do about it?
Chad pored over the transcripts and police reports that Justin’s secretary had provided for him. Some were a matter of public record, others were cases that Justin, Sean or Khendra had worked on personally.
Sean and Khendra, he mused. Now they were a team. Very effective. Several years earlier they’d successfully won a multimillion-dollar lawsuit in a wrongful-death shooting. That was a case splashed all over the New York papers. If he remembered right, the victim’s brother, Quinten Parker, launched a foundation for troubled youth with the settlement.
He stroked his chin in thought. Outcomes like that are a start. But the results are contained. His goal was to have far-reaching results—long-term. Black folks would never see reparations from slavery. That was a beaten trail that would lead nowhere. But today, here and now, they had a chance to get payment for their suffering and loss, if they would band together for a single cause before there was no one, not one black man left standing.
“Knock, knock. Can I come in?”
Chad’s gaze snapped up and landed on the long, slender form framed in his doorway. For an instant, he saw her silky hair fanned out around her head like a halo, her eyes shut, mouth moist, swollen and inviting, as her body moved beneath him. That was then. It was pretty clear that that chapter in their life was closed.
He cleared his throat and his thoughts. “Hey, this is a surprise.” He stood slowly.
“Pleasant?”
